


a funny thing happened on the way to the alter

by ratherbeblue



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherbeblue/pseuds/ratherbeblue
Summary: In the year following the apocalypse that wasn’t, Aziraphale and Crowley plan a wedding. Or rather, Aziraphale plans a wedding while Crowley continues to spend time with his friend exactly as he has for the past 6000 years.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 134





	a funny thing happened on the way to the alter

September

“Have you thought about it?” Aziraphale asks, a month after the apocalypse. They’re drinking tea, which Crowley bought, in the back room of the bookshop, and looking over the invitation (singular) that has arrived for them describing a union to be held between Anathema Device and Newton Pulsifer this coming Halloween, they moved fast it seems. 

“Thought about what?” He takes a sip of his own tea, if it could be called that, bought at the vietnamese bakery across the way. Aziraphale had given him an extremely derisive look when he’d noticed the brown balls of tapioca floating around his clear cup, which had just made him more giddy about his new discovery.

“Marriage. “ Aziraphale answers, waving the invitation like it should be obvious as he turns to get a pen.

Crowley reaches over and hands him one before he gets the chance to search.

Aziraphale lets out a pleased hum and Crowley considers the question, it’s similar to a lot of the questions Aziraphale asks, ‘Do you ever think about papyrus?’ or ‘Have you considered dolmas?’ just one of his questions, though usually Crowley can see the course of the conversation a little clearer than he can right now. Still, it seems a standard question, deserves a standard answer, a true one really.

“Of course, thought about it loads, why are you asking?” And he has thought about it loads, over the course of six thousand years he’s thought of most things that have been around that long loads of times. He likes some of the things humans have come up with regarding the topic (huge amounts of paperwork, smashing things), thinks other things are downright fucking weird (wearing white, throwing flowers at each other to divinate who’s next). 

Crowley moves the thick straw around in his cup, trying to unstick the tapioca pearls from one another.

“Well, you’ve never mentioned it.” Aziraphale replies while filling out the RSVP. Then he looks up over his little gold rimmed spectacles that do absolutely nothing but make him look adorable, and softens. “Though I suppose now would have been the first time for it, and best not to steal the mortals’ thunder, they have such little time as it is.”

Crowley sucks up a particularly chewy pearl and crushes it between his molars.

“Sorry, you’ve lost me there.”

Aziraphale does a little wave with his hand, letting Crowley know it’s not of any immediate importance which he takes easily.

“Not to worry, like I said we’ve got time.” And before Crowley can question it he’s addressed the new envelope and turned to him again. “Now, you mentioned you brought banh mi as well?”

Crowley smiles and grabs the white paper bag he left on the counter while they went through the mail.

October

The wedding is nice, if a little odd, but neither of them are the best judge, Aziraphale had last been to a wedding in 1840 and Crowley’s modern knowledge is limited to a few cheesy blockbusters he’d snuck into over the years. 

Still, there’s cake, which delights Aziraphale, and Anathema’s family from America are there, which delights Crowley. 

They’re slinking off the dance floor together after the aforementioned family lead the two of them in a dance called The Cupid Shuffle, which delighted them both for very different reasons, when Aziraphale turns to Crowley with a slight smile.

“Vows are certainly something nowadays, aren’t they?”

Crowley hands him a glass of champagne from the table at the edge of the garden, nodding.

“I was a fan of it when they started using Corinthians, but probably not the best fit, don’t you think?”

Crowley makes a noise of agreement, he’s a fan of the en vogue style of spewing whatever dithering emotions struck the fancy of the poor sods getting married, he had especially liked Anathema’s occult references and the way they made Newton’s family squirm in their seats.

“Oh yes, patient surely, but kind? I know you wouldn’t like me saying it, four letter words and all, right?” Aziraphale says, eyes sparkling in amusement over the bubbling champagne glass in his hand. “It all falls apart after that I suppose.”

Crowley takes a sip of his own champagne, idly wondering why Aziraphale thought he would be invested in which bible verses some humans decided to fixate on.

November

“How about Christmas?” Aziraphale says one day, about a week after the wedding.

“Eh, it’s not like we celebrate.” Crowley replies, they usually just have a night in where they try not to feel too uncomfortable with all the various hullabaloo the humans have made up regarding the young man. He’s not sure why Aziraphale’s asking his opinion 2000 years after the fact.

“Right, of course. Would probably be difficult to arrange something at that time anyway.”

Crowley hums in agreement assuming he had been talking about changing things up with some kind of dinner at a popular restaurant, although Aziraphale never minded miracling up a reservation before. Perhaps he thought of things a little differently now. 

Aziraphale takes his hand.

Crowley supposes everything’s a little different now.

December

Over Christmas dinner, which is Chinese take out, as it has been for the last several years, Aziraphale decides to try again.

“New Years?” He calls, he’s sitting in his own chair while Crowley fiddles with the record player behind him. After a bit of cat and mouse he had allowed himself to be convinced into Elton John over another Shubert. 

“Same as always, yeah? I’ll bring the champagne.” Crowley says on return, bumping Aziraphale with his hip to the beat before settling into the couch where he’s spent more time in the past two months than his own flat.

“Right, no need to overshadow old traditions with new.” 

If his smile seems a little rueful Crowley chalks it up to the background of ‘Your Song’ wafting in from the tinny speakers.

January

“Valentine’s Day?” Aziraphale asks over breakfast one day. It’s a new place, closer to Crowley’s Mayfair flat that he really should be checking in on after this, and there’s an advertisement menu for a themed brunch on the table for February 14th. The mention of bottomless champagne is tempting but still-

“Really? A saints holiday?” Crowley scrunches up his nose. They’d never taken much stock in them, and Aziraphale particularly harbored some specific sort of hatred for St. Patrick whenever his rolled around. “Not really our thing.”

“Oh, I didn’t even think about… it’s been so bastardized really, hardly about him at all.” Aziraphale sighs. “I suppose you’re right though, romantic, but just not for us.”

Crowley hummed, wondering when the hell is coffee was going to arrive, new places tended to take a lot longer than places where they were already regulars. Something to do with the lack of fear he’d have to put into the place surely.

February

Six months after the Apocalypse didn’t happen Crowley’s in the stacks of Aziraphale’s bookshop, trying to find some old regency novella without knowing the name or using Aziraphale’s help, all he remembers is that the woman in it wore a yellow dress to a party she should not have worn a yellow dress to. It’s one of his new hobbies, with all the time spent in the bookshop nowadays it’s easy for him to spend a few hours searching rather than trying to look it up on his phone, getting distracted, and waking up a few days later with 50 wikipedia tabs on obscure Canadian soap operas and an aching back.

A chill racks its way up his spine as one of the last stragglers leaves for the day and he pushes down the reflex to trip him on the steps, wouldn’t do right in front of Aziraphale, especially since the man was already leaving on his own.

Really, he can’t wait for this weather to be over, maybe once it was warm he could get back to his usual misdeeds, maybe even an older project he never fully picked up. He mused to himself going over the options in his mind.

“St. James Park?”

“Yes…” Crowley looks at him in surprise, wondering how he knew exactly what he had been thinking about at that moment. That being of course, if he could train the ducks at the park to do acts of evil on command. It’s something he’s thought of in the past but he’s never had so much free time before, and Aziraphale had mentioned wanting to have a picnic, maybe that would be a good time to scout the situation, or knock the two out in one since Aziraphale’s bringing it up.“Exactly what I was thinking, how did you know?”

“Well, I was just thinking about it, going over locations, it’s only been a few hundred years but I thought that’s long enough to stick to London, and of course a church wouldn’t do for obvious reasons.”

“Yes, obvious…” Crowley replied, a little confused about how or why they would ever have a picnic in a church, and where he would get the ducks for that matter.

“And of course it’ll have to be once the weather clears up.” 

“Yeah, no rush.” Crowley didn’t much enjoy the idea of trying to wrangle ducks in the snow anyway.

Aziraphale nods slightly, his head clearly lost in thought as it often is.

“Probably not the summer, don’t want anything too hot, and of course spring is such a cliché. Oh, in August! No, but that would be Adam’s birthday…” Crowley watches him pace in front of the couch until he seems to come to a conclusion. “October 21st! Yes? Sort of symbolic, could work, if you don’t think it’s too close to Anathema and Newton’s anniversary?” 

“Wouldn’t bother me.” 

Aziraphale gives him a smile which he returns easily. His hand slips into Crowley’s where it’s hanging at his side, gives it a squeeze then he’s off again, settling into his own chair with a poetry book that is much more modern than Crowley’s used to seeing him with.

Crowley looks up from the cover and sees Aziraphale’s looking at him as well, he smiles despite himself and sees Aziraphale does the same before turning his attention downward towards the book again.

March

It’s the weekend after the first day of Spring when they end up in St.James next, though it’s merely a coincidence, a halfway point between the bookshop and the new to them bakery Crowley had heard raves reviews for. Crowley liked how hideously overpriced everything was and Aziraphale couldn’t even complain once he had a bite of the delicate ginger and orange cream napoleons. 

Still, they happened to cut through their old rendezvous point which reminded Crowley of their conversation.

“Guess you were right about Spring, angel.” He nods his head towards the first flock of ducklings of the year and tries to imagine wrangling all of those into doing his bidding. It gives him an odd flashback to Warlock’s infancy and he idly thinks he might want to get in contact, for old times sake, not like he hasn’t seen the actual antichrist since the apocalypse that wasn’t. 

Aziraphale follows his movement, eyes landing on a couple very clearly taking engagement photos in the late afternoon sun. All light colors and cardigans over their dresses, perfect for the early spring day.

“It’s to be expected, but the fall will suit us well I think.” He smiles up at Crowley who, as always, returns it easily and slides their hands together.

“Yeah, me too.” He can’t help but agree.

No ducklings to worry about then, hopefully.

April

It takes a month but Crowley does finally make good on his errant idea to visit Warlock. His boarding school (which he had been sent to nearly immediately following his family’s unpleasant vacation) has a holiday for spring. He arrives, in a more casual than was probably welcome version of his nanny outfit, to the Dowling estate to find Harriet, longer haired and erratic looking, practically begging him to take Warlock for the day despite the five years of absence on his end.

Warlock puts up a valiant effort to act put out but even Crowley’s demonic senses could pick up how he has missed him, and the feeling is mutual. Warlock’s a right brat but still bright, in a quiet, cunning way, unlike his parents preferred loud boasting.

They have a lovely time annoying the waiters at the Michelin star by insisting on ordering off the kids menu and afterwards, when Warlock gets a little gloomy at the prospect of going back home Crowley pulls a tube of superglue and a handful of pennies from his pocket (not Warlock’s ear, no where near the ear). They watch, Warlock with racious laughter and Crowley with the slightest uptick of his painted lips, as many try and fail to pick up any of the half dozen pennies they’ve scattered in view of the bench nearest the ice cream stand.

By the end of the day he’s worn out, like he used to get playing in the gardens when he was young, and the sight of him drifting off in the Bently is so bloody heartwarming Crowley doesn’t even mind that how ridiculous he looks carrying a sleeping preteen up the cobblestone path with effortless strength.

Later, in the flat above the bookshop Aziraphale listens with rapt attention to Crowley’s recounting of the day's events as he draws a warm bath for his feet (As he had before, at the Dowlings, and after the church).

Crowley sighs in pleasure when it’s ready and curls his toes in the perfectly heated water. They are both sitting, facing different directions, on the wide edge of the tub and Aziraphale offers him a glass of wine before pouring his own.

They talk idly about what was coming up on the West End and Crowley gets so close to convincing Aziraphale on Mamma Mia when he suddenly speaks up.

“Did you want to invite Warlock?” He asks.

“Sure, it might be hard to get him without his parents again though.” As thankful as Harriet was today she’ll probably sober up and realize it wasn’t completely normal for someone’s childhood nanny to practically kidnap them for a day, much less take them to see Mamma Mia with a total stranger. “Too many questions.”

“Right, and his father was always a bigot at the best of times, I can’t imagine what he’d say. Perhaps his mother would bring him?” 

“Angel, I had to wear Louboutins today.” He says, cracking the joints in his toes under the water to emphasize his point.

“Oh!” Aziraphale looks embarrassed. “Of course, and it wouldn’t do if I had to show up with those teeth again, would it? And I can hardly imagine you wearing a white dress...well, again.”

Crowley groans, remembering the ball in 1812. 

“Never again, Aziraphale, never again.” 

  
  


May

“Morocco would be nice in late October.” Aziraphale says as he walks by where Crowley is lounging on the couch, he runs a hand through Crowley’s hair, probably attempting to fix it’s usual disarray style.

“Are you craving pastilla? We could go now.” Crowley says, maneuvering his head underneath Aziraphale’s hand and feeling the pleasant drag of finely manicured nails.

“Oh, no, no. Much too hot now, I was just thinking about our options.” 

Crowley makes a noise of agreement, it has been a while since they’ve left London just for dinner.

Aziraphale continues on his way, lingering in his hair for just a second longer.

June

“It was nice to see Adam.” Aziraphale says happily as they enter the bookshop.

“Oh, was it?” Asks Crowley with no small amount of sarcasm.

It had been after all, him that was immediately whisked away by the young former antichrist and his gang while Aziraphale waved him off to sit with the  _ adults _ . 

It was all for the best though, because from what he had heard when he snuck by to grab a glass of whatever fruity drink was on the dessert table they had still been discussing  _ weddings _ , like it hadn’t been almost a year since the last one. 

If that kind of mush was the other option, Crowley thought, he’ll stick with the kids thanks, he was having a grand time teaching them about the 100 years war until they figured out he could turn into a snake, then it turned into an all out petting zoo no matter how much he hissed.

July

They do end up seeing Mamma Mia, it takes Romeo and Juliet and two separate visits to the Globe’s newest version of Othello but Crowley gets there eventually.

It’s playing at one of the big West End theatres where they give you the equivalent of half a bottle of wine in what is essentially a grown up version of a sippy cup. Aziraphale had turned up his nose at it, but when Crowley mentioned how it enhanced the experience he reluctantly agreed, lest he be tricked into sitting through Act I completely sober next to a Crowley who was decidedly not.

“Hmm… Wine over champagne definitely.” Aziraphale says seemingly out of nowhere while they waited for the rest of the crowd to shuffle into their seats. “But what do you think, chicken or pork?”

Ah, dinner tonight. They’d decided on Margot, an Italian place with which the menu they were both very familiar.

“Hmm? You know me, I’m not picky, whatever you’d prefer.”

Aziraphale seemed content, if a little disappointed with the answer. 

“What’s wrong?” Crowley asks.

“Well I just thought you might have more of an opinion now, I mean a lot’s changed, things are different now. We can finally…” Aziraphale sighs, looking over at Crowley. “I don’t know, make our own destiny now.”

Bit dramatic just to decide which animal to eat for dinner but Aziraphale has always been particular about food, and it’s not as if Crowley’s not sympathetic to the thought behind it. It’s been an odd past few months, both of them slightly on edge wondering when or if their respective offices will come calling. It seeps into everything it seems, even the dinner menu.

“Well, if you really want my opinion I say chicken.”

He lights up immediately and Crowley knows he’s made the right choice, remembered that he had liked the chicken the last time they had gone to Margot, though he usually got the veal.

“Oh great, I think that will be a lovely choice for everyone.”

Crowley simply nods because the show’s about to start. 

Later that night at Margot, Aziraphale orders the veal and Crowley decides not to have any hard feelings about it.

  
  


August

“Two more months now.” Aziraphale says. He’s got a calendar up above his desk in the bookshop and he’s been crossing off the days since he got it in his mind that there’s something to count down to. October 21st, circled in red and waiting, as he says, two months away.

“I didn’t think you’d be this excited.” Crowley admits, chewing on a piece of black licorice from a bag he’d picked up at Adam’s birthday party the day before.

“Oh? And why wouldn’t I be?” Aziraphale asks, looking more than a little amused, if Crowley didn’t know any better he’d say he looks like he’s _ flirting _ .

“Don’t know, didn’t think you liked ducks that much.”

Aziraphale looks at him for a long moment, the stretch of silence makes Crowley look over as well.

“I’m sorry?” Aziraphale asks, but he doesn’t look sorry, he looks like Crowley’s being a complete idiot.

“What?” Crowley asks, a little annoyed.

“Ducks?”

“Yes?”

Two can play at this game.

Aziraphale takes a deep breath and pinches at his nose, the drama queen he is.

“Crowley.”

“Aziraphale?”

“What exactly do you think is happening on October 21st?”

“Well it’s obvious innit?”

“I certainly thought so.”

Crowley bites back the urge to parrot the words back in mocking.

“We’re going to St.James.”

“Yes.”

“And we’re going to have a picnic.”

“Okay…”

“And I’m going to teach the ducks how to be evil.”

He pinches his nose again, and his eyes scrunch up. It’s annoying that Crowley kind of thinks it’s cute, and it’s more annoying that his brain is telling him that right now.

“And then?”

“And then…” Crowley can admit to himself he’s a little lost, but there’s no way he’s admitting that to Aziraphale. “We… go… to dinner?”

“No, Crowley, then we get married, or rather instead we get married, the picnic sounds nice, but I don’t know where you could have possibly gotten the duck idea from.”

_ Did I never mention it? _ Crowley thinks before his brain catches up to the first part of Aziraphale’s statement.

Crowley does the first thing his emotion rattled brain can think of, he laughs, though his heart is going a mile a minute and he feels closer to crying.

“Ahaha, got you, angel!”

“You… got me?”

“Yeah, really had you going for a minute, you really thought I had no idea! What a lark! You should have seen the look on your face, great fodder for the vows I tell you what.” Crowley’s rather proud of himself for not having his voice crack on the word vows.

“Right.” Aziraphale says, looking rather calm for someone who should be feeling really rather foolish right now in Crowley’s opinion, it makes him nervous. “To think, I really thought you had missed all the signs we were taking the next logical step in our relationship.”

Crowley waves at him a little.

“Right, of course, and this is obviously the next logical step because,” Crowley pauses, looking to Aziraphale for a bit of guidance as he continues slowly, like before. “We… are…”

“In love!” Aziraphale exclaims, looking exasperated.

“Right! In love, of course, exactly what I was going to say. So wedding, um, lots to do, only a few months, let’s get to it. Um… napkins!” Crowley exclaims, having heard and started many wedding arguments regarding the subject and therefore thinking it a good thing to start with, could take them months really and then they would have both forgotten all about his little embarrassment by then.

Aziraphale is still looking at him though, doesn’t even look close to starting an argument over eggshell vs. ivory even though Crowley knows he’ll have  _ opinions _ on the matter.

“I’m sorry, did you not know?” He finally asks.

Crowley throws his head back.

“Psssh, what? Me? Not know? Of course I knew, we’re in love, yeah, since Eden? Mmhmm.” 

And it’s true, at least he thinks it is, he can remember them standing there on the wall and looking at each other. Their eyes had met and Crowley had known, as he thought he knew Aziraphale quite well even then, that they must be thinking the same thing:  _ How great that we are in love, and how terrible that we will never be able to do anything about it _ . That was the assumption he had been operating under for 6000 years and it’s becoming news to him that not all of his assumptions about Aziraphale have been correct.

“It’s just that you seem a little surprised that we’ve been planning a wedding since the apocalypse.” He states delicately, like Crowley is some kind of spooked circus horse.

“Since-” Crowley started to exclaim, then calmed himself. “Yes, of course we have, what else would we have been doing?”

“It would be a mystery to me.” Aziraphale admits. “Now, about the napkins…”

**Author's Note:**

> oh man this idea popped into my head and i just had to write it, i think this is the fastest i've ever churned something out. let me know what you think! I might be writing more and i'm open to suggestions as always :)  
> *edit please don't call crowley stupid! it's meant to be a funny fic, his mind is simply in other places and moving a mile a minute in other directions :)


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